


Consociation

by Mogseltof



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Masquerade, Multi, OT3, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mogseltof/pseuds/Mogseltof
Summary: For tumblr user norende-village as part of the tales of series secret santa 2018 over on tumblr!Cheria's getting fed up with the fact that while she's ready to enter the next stage of her relationship with Asbel, Asbel's too busy being himself to even notice, when she finds an unexpected ally, and a plot is hatched.





	Consociation

No matter how far she travelled, Barona would always be breathtaking in the way that somewhere that was both home and strange could be. It wasn’t Lhant, but it  _ was _ Windor, and she had friends there, as she was always reminded. She’d barely been in the inn for an hour when a messenger from the palace had arrived, bearing Richard’s seal and asking her to stay with him for the duration of her time in Barona. 

She could hardly turn down an invitation from the king, much less an old friend. 

Dinner was nice, just the two of them and the occasional servant in a small dining room, rather than the large, formal affairs she’d been dragged to in the past. Richard looked comfortable, rather than out of place, and Cheria felt more at ease around all the formality than she had in, well, ever. 

“So you’ve been spending most of your time up in Fendel helping the miners there?” asked Richard between neat bites, looking up at her across the table.

“And a lot of sick children, there’s a lot of single parents who are running themselves ragged trying to work and care for their kids at the same time. I’ve been helping set up the doctors and a free hospital in Zavhert for that,” said Cheria, hastily swallowing her own food, conscious of the fact her elbows kept wanting to slip onto the table. 

“You’re very accomplished, you know that?” Richard told her seriously.

“It’s really just what I’m passionate about. Everywhere needs good healing, it doesn’t matter what kind of person you are,” said Cheria, shaking her head and looking down, feeling her cheeks heat. 

“And that is because you’re a good person. Are you in Windor for long?” Richard asked, smiling at her.

“About a week. I’m headed off to Yu Liberte next, Strahta’s doing mostly fine, but I’ve got a doctor friend who wants my help with a specialist case,” said Cheria, perking up a little. She’d have to see if she could see Hubert while she was there. 

“A shame we don’t have you for longer. ...Are you planning on visiting Lhant this trip?” said Richard slowly, fork hovering above his plate.

“Probably, yes. Why?” 

“No reason. How is Asbel, anyway?” asked Richard, an innocent tone in his voice Cheria wasn’t sure she liked. 

“I’m sure you’d know better than me,” said Cheria dryly. 

“Not really, he is rather busy being a Lord, in fact, I think you’ve seen him more recently than I. He and Hubert attended talks in Zavhert, didn’t they?” Richard took another bite of food as he asked, Cheria’s attention drawn to the deft movement of his fingers. 

“Yes, we met up while they were in town. Talked a lot about our work,” she said, mimicking him and continuing to eat.

“Just work?” pressed Richard.

“ _ Yes _ , just work! Asbel hardly seemed interested in anything else.” said Cheria, trying not to get flustered. Asbel and Richard were best friends, there was  _ nothing _ unusual about this line of questioning. 

“He is rather like that, isn’t he?” Richard mused.

“What do you mean?” asked Cheria, suddenly tired. 

“Unable to show how he cares properly.” said Richard quietly. His eyes were meeting Cheria’s directly now, piercing in gaze. She didn’t feel uncomfortable, necessarily, just, well,  _ tired _ .

“He said he was proud of me,” she said, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“Like a father?” said Richard, sounding incredulous. 

“ _ Yes _ . I’m glad he’s stepping up and taking care of Sophie, but he shouldn’t be talking to  _ me _ like that!” snapped Cheria.

“He is a bit… Oblivious at times,” said Richard apologetically. 

“At times? At  _ times _ ? Richard, I have been  _ trying _ to get him to notice me as more than ‘one of the boys’ since I was a child! I know Malik is convinced we’re going to settle down and raise a family together, but at this stage I honestly think I could, I could, I don’t know! Strip down in his bedroom and he’d apologise and offer to get me a towel! Oh goodness, I’m sorry.” Cheria realised just what she’d said and buried her face in her hands. 

“Don’t apologise, I know exactly what you mean. Asbel has personally saved my life on several occasions, and I don’t think he quite understands what that means to me,” said Richard in a quietly serious tone. 

“What that me-- oh! Richard, I’m so sorry!” Realisation struck Cheria as she looked up, the heat draining from her face.  _ Richard _ felt…?

“Whatever for?” asked Richard, sounding like he was amused. 

“You feel for him, don’t you?” said Cheria carefully. 

“Of course I feel for him, he’s my closest friend,” said Richard. Neither of them were even pretending to eat by now, food abandoned between them on the table. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Richard, you want him the same way I do,” said Cheria seriously. 

“That’s not… I’m not -- Cheria, you two are meant to be together,” said Richard, shaking his head.

“Oh that’s nonsense, and you know it. I love him, but what’s the point if he doesn’t love me back?” reasoned Cheria, crossing her arms over her chest.

“He does love you back, and you’re more than deserving of that,” said Richard, leaning forward on one elbow.

“And you’re not? Let’s both face it, Richard, Asbel is a, a, an idiot! I can’t believe he won’t see the love either of us have for him!” sputtered Cheria, shaking her head.

“He’s not a complete idiot,” protested Richard.

“He is when it comes to the heart, and right now, that’s what matters! I think both of us deserve more than an idiot,” said Cheria firmly.

“You’re giving up hope?” asked Richard, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“...I can’t, I do still love him.” Cheria sagged back in her seat, frowning at herself. 

“What if I said I had an idea?” said Richard slowly.

“Oh?” 

“If he can’t realise our feelings after this, then he truly is an idiot…” 

* * *

‘ _ Not all is as it seems! _ ’ said the invitation in Asbel’s hands, flowing script staring out from the paper. ‘ _ Barona’s First Royal Masquerade Ball. Come as you aren’t. Admission on presentation of this invitation only, masks and costumes compulsory.’ _

It had come with a letter from Richard, personally inviting Asbel to stay at the castle for a few days after the event. Asbel had been reluctant to leave Lhant to its own devices for more than a few days, but Richard was his best friend after all. He always wanted to spend more time with him, especially since they were both so busy. It would be good to see him again. And Cheria was supposed to be heading back to Barona soon, right? Maybe if he was lucky she’d be in the city while he was there and they could have a little reunion!

The mask on his face itched, and Asbel stuck his hand under the white and blue material to scratch at his skin. He thought his costume was quite good, he looked like one of the knights of old from hundreds of years ago, and his mask was a sturdy affair that he’d let Sophie paint for him. If anyone got close enough to see his mismatched eyes they’d know it was him, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. And maybe it would be a good thing! If Richard found him early enough they might be able to sneak off and catch up instead of attending a ball where he’d probably be forced to dance (eugh) and talk to women who thought he’d be an eligible catch for marriage (even worse; hardly any of the ones who’d tried that so far had even made an effort with Sophie). He handed his invitation to the servant wearing a simple white half mask, and they inspected it before nodding and drawing back the curtain hanging in the doorway to admit him into the ballroom. 

The room was dimly lit, using oil lamps and candles, the brilliant chandeliers hanging dark above the dancefloor. There were less people than Asbel expected, but still far too many for his liking. The dancefloor was crowded with people in colourful costumes and bright masks, and he felt out of place in the bright mass, hesitating in the doorway. The curtain drew back again behind him, and Asbel forced himself to walk forwards, letting a pair dressed in matching red dresses and black masks stroll past him. 

Well, if no one saw his eyes to identify him, no one could call him out on not mingling enough for a Lord of his status later. Asbel made up his mind and headed straight for the food table, picking up a cup of punch (thankfully non alcoholic), and a small plate that he immediately loaded with food. If he kept it full, no one could expect him to ask anyone to dance, right?

This worked for the first hour or so. Asbel kept moving around the edge of the room, nodding at anyone who made eye contact with him (though with some of these masks it was hard to tell), and periodically returning to the table for food. On his fifth turn about the ballroom, Asbel ran out before he’d made it back to the table, and a waiter swooped in and took his plate before he could say anything, leaving him empty handed and vulnerable. Well, he’d probably been here long enough to satisfy Richard, so…

Asbel turned on one heel and headed for the way he’d come in, more than ready to leave the partiers to their devices and take the mask off already, when a striking young man with reddish hair loose down his shoulders, a black suit, and a capelet hanging from his right intercepted him, holding out his hand with a look at the dancefloor. His mask was simple, white, and covered his whole face, the only thing visible a pair of brown eyes that pierced his own with a meaningful stare.

Asbel’s face heated up under his mask, and he realised he hadn’t prepared for the possibility that someone might ask  _ him _ to dance instead of the other way around. He couldn’t exactly say he was going for more food either, and if he turned him down and he was recognised, then it would be rude. He took the mystery man’s hand and allowed himself to be led to the dancefloor. It took a few moments before he figured out where his hands were going -- he’d never danced with another man before, was he still supposed to put his hand at his waist? -- but the other waited patiently before they started dancing. 

It was a simple waltz, newer, but one of the ones Asbel’s mother had made sure he knew, so he made his way through the steps without stepping on his partner’s toes. Everytime he looked up, his partner was maintaining eye contact, those steady brown eyes matching his through every step and beat of the music. It was almost uncanny, as their bodies moved through the steps, face to face. 

The song ended and the man stepped back with a bow, holding onto Asbel’s hand for a lingering moment before releasing it. Asbel bowed back automatically, mind racing. Did he know this man? Why had he asked him to dance? Would he be expected to meet him after the ball? Should he ask the man to dance next to be polite?

Asbel straightened, biting his lip, and turned to step off the dancefloor, almost running into another man behind him, and he froze, scanning the figure in front of him. This one was taller, but dressed in the exact inverse as the one he’d just danced with. White suit, white capelet hanging off one shoulder, plain black mask showing nothing but his eyes. His cornsilk blond hair was tied up in bun at the back of his head, and amused hazel eyes met Asbel’s own as he extended his hand, silent asking for a dance. 

Was this a joke?

Even if it was, Asbel couldn’t bide his curiosity enough to refuse. He took the blond’s hand and stepped backwards. Unlike the redhead, the blond man chose to lead, placing his hand at Asbel’s waist and gently steering him back onto the dancefloor. The song this time was more upbeat and complicated, one Asbel wasn’t so sure of, and he felt a bead of sweat start at his hairline and creep down his face. 

The blond man handled the dance with aplomb however, spinning Asbel around carefully, and Asbel had a sneaking suspicion he was simplifying some of the steps for Asbel’s sake. He was held close in a tight spin, and Asbel briefly panicked, worrying he’d step on the blond’s feet in a bad way. When he looked up, there were smile lines around what he could see of his eyes. The song ended with a complicated twist of steps, and Asbel was spun off the dancefloor, breathless. The blond man disappeared into the throng of people, and Asbel watched him go, mystified. Two men? Dressed so similarly? What was going  _ on _ ?

Something nudged his elbow and Asbel jumped, turning to one side. The redheaded man was by his side, holding a plate of food that he offered to Asbel silently. Asbel took the plate with a murmured thanks, and the man nodded, turning and disappearing like the blond man. Asbel considered the situation for a moment while he ate his food quietly. Was this a joke being played on him?

As soon as the last bite of food disappeared from the plate, another waiter appeared to whisk it away, and the blond man was back at his elbow, tugging him back onto the dancefloor. The dance was a quick jig, leaving Asbel with his heart in his throat as they spun around and around with the other couples, passing Asbel off to the redheaded man halfway through the song as they danced around. The redhead led with as much ease as he followed, and Asbel found himself relaxing enough to enjoy the dance, even as the song ended and he was spun off the dancefloor. 

There was no sign of either man as he looked around wildly, and Asbel turned, staring around the darkened ballroom, trying to find either of them in the crowd of wild costumes and masked faces. There was no sign of them in the crowd and Asbel paced around the edges of the dance floor, searching wildly, when suddenly he spotted them out of the corner of his eye. They were standing together, by a door at the back of the room, one of the one for servants use only, both of them looking his way. 

Wordlessly, the blond held the door open and the redhead disappeared through it, followed closely by the blond. 

Asbel pushed through the crowd in a direct line, dodging people as he crossed the dancefloor between songs. A servant bowed as he passed, and another held the door open for him. It locked behind him with an almost ominous clunk, and Asbel suddenly wished he had his sword on him. Too late now, anyway. Curiosity alight, he plunged on ahead, eager to find out who exactly these men were and what they wanted. 

The passage was only a short one and came out in the gardens underneath Richard’s rooms -- Asbel had seen them often enough from the windows -- and the two men were easy enough to spot, standing in the flower laden gazebo, staring right at him. The moon was full and high above the roof, beaming gentle moonlight around the garden. Asbel’s eyes were drawn to the bed of sopherias Sophie had planted the last time they were here, and he stepped forward into the garden, peeling his mask off his face. He wanted to face these two on his own terms, with his own face, even if they wouldn’t extend the same courtesy. 

They watched as he approached the gazebo, unmoving even as he mounted the steps. The silence was palpable, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife, and the men stepped aside as he stepped forward, between them. Two pairs of hands settled on his torso, one on his shoulder, another at his waist, and one hand trailed up, covering Asbel’s eyes. Asbel reached up to pull the hand away, his eyes shutting automatically at the pressure, but another hand tugged gently on his wrist. 

Asbel opened his mouth to protest, but a pair of soft lips covered his. Muffled, his sound of protest turned to one of surprise, and he froze, before relaxing and kissing back reflexively. Another pair of lips touched his neck briefly, and then he was broken away from the first, his head turned gently to be kissed again, by the second. 

After a brief moment the lips pulled away, and the hand over his eyes peeled back, all the places where they were touching him suddenly cold with their absence. Asbel’s eyes stayed shut for the briefest moment, his lips tingling, and he took a deep breath and opened them, raising a hand to his lips. 

Richard was standing in front of him, holding the black mask in one hand, and Cheria stepped around, fiddling with the white mask in her fingers. Asbel felt his heart catch in his throat, staring at the two of them wide eyed. Cheria had been the redheaded man?  _ Richard _ had been the one dancing so wildly? What was going  _ on _ ?

“We thought this might be a good way to get your attention,” said Richard quietly, handing Asbel his mask. “It’s been a little bit tricky, you see.”

“You don’t have to reciprocate, to either of us,” Cheria spoke up, handing Asbel her mask in turn. “We just want an answer.  _ Before _ I leave Barona, Asbel.”

She strode past Asbel and down the steps, Richard following after her with nary a glance back at Asbel. 

* * *

An answer to _ what _ , was the question that plagued Asbel for the next three days.  _ Why _ had Cheria and Richard gone through all that with the ball? Why had they  _ kissed _ him? Maybe, just maybe if he could get one of them on their own he could get some answers -- but everytime he tried they were together. 

He’d gone to Cheria’s rooms, only to find her mending Richard’s cloak, with Richard. He’d gone to  _ Richard’s _ rooms to find them taking tea together. He’d gone to the gardens, only to see Richard showing Cheria the different flowers. Even in the local hospital he’d found Cheria showing Richard the way she healed in close detail. 

Even worse, every time he found them, they simply looked up at him, waiting patiently for something he wasn’t sure of. It was  _ maddening _ . 

But, it was the last day Cheria was going to in Barona, so Asbel had to do something about it -- so he steeled his nerves and went looking. They weren't in Richard or Cheria's rooms, and they weren't in the gardens either. They could be in Barona proper, but that would be plain frustration to try and find them just by hunting all over the city.

Not that they'd made it particularly difficult to be found in the first place. 

Asbel paused in the middle of a hallway and sighed, burying his hands in his head. Servants. He should ask a servant. He was getting nowhere like this, just running around. Asbel turned around and went back the way he'd come, spotting a maid outside Richard's office and making a beeline for her. "Excuse me," he said, waiting for the maid to turn attentively to him. "I was wond-"

"His Majesty is in the sitting room with Miss Barnes," she informed him without Asbel having to finish asking. 

"Oh, uh, thanks," said Asbel, nodding at her awkwardly. She smiled and turned back to her task. Asbel turned and headed towards the sitting room, pondering the subject at hand. Why did all the servants seem to be in on this? What exactly were Richard and Cheria playing at? Why hadn't they just talked to him about this?

Asbel hesitated outside the sitting room, hand raised in the knock to automatically announce his presence before entering. They were his two closest friends, surely they wouldn't play a, a game like that with him. The ball, the masks, the kisses, it had to mean something, right? Asbel had never felt this unsure about anything in his life except maybe taking over the lordship in Lhant. How could the two most certain people in his life make him feel so off kilter? 

Either way, he had to face this. Mind made up, Asbel rapped his knuckles on the door twice and pushed it open, taking a deep breath. Cheria and Richard looked up from their chairs in the sitting room, looking at him expectantly, and instead of leaving like he had every time before, Asbel let the door swing shut behind him as he stepped into the room. Richard seemed to let out a breath, and Cheria put down her book, clasping her hands loosely on her lap. Asbel stayed standing instead of joining them in the third chair by the table. 

"About the ball," he said, feeling every inch the awkward teenager instead of the competent lord. "That was -- I mean -- guys, what were you playing at?"

"What do you mean?" asked Richard mildly, sharing a glance with Cheria. 

"That's what I'm trying to ask you!" Asbel burst out, raking a hand through his hair. "What was that? What were you playing at? Dressing up, pretending to be strangers, kissing me? What did it all mean? You guys are my best friends, couldn't you just, I don't know, talk to me instead of whatever that was?"

If Richard looked strangely guilty, Cheria looked annoyed. "'Whatever that was'?" she repeated, putting her book aside. "Asbel, we've both been trying to get your attention for years now! What that  _ was _ was us doing so in a way not even you could misinterpret!"

"You have my attention! Both of you, you always have my attention!" said Asbel, tugging on the hair at the back of his neck. "Why do you need to go to all that effort to get something both of you have."

"Oh, that's not the kind of attention we mean, Asbel!" snapped Cheria. 

"Asbel, we want you," said Richard in a reasonable tone. "In the sense of kissing and romantic assignations at balls and everything in between."

"Why couldn't you tell me that?" said Asbel, turning his head between the two of them and sighing before coming over and sitting down in the third chair. "Instead of..."

"Instead of what?" asked Cheria. "Showing you we love you?"

"I love you guys too," mumbled Asbel, burying his head in his hands. 

A hand closed over his wrist and he looked up into Richard's face. "We're sorry," said Richard, rubbing his thumb over Asbel's hand softly. "We wanted to show you not upset you."

"I'm not upset, just confused," said Asbel, watching the quiet honesty in Richard's eyes. How had he not identified him behind that mask?

"Well let us un-confuse you," said Cheria quietly, and she came around Richard's side, cupping Asbel's cheek. Telegraphing every move, she leaned in and kissed him firmly, eyes shutting. "And if that's the last one I ever get, then so be it," she murmured, seemingly to herself. 

"It doesn't have to be," Asbel told her, reaching up and squeezing her hand. Cheria's eyes popped open, and she looked delighted, a smile slowly spreading across her face. 

Richard coughed slightly and pulled back, standing up. "Well, I'll leave you two to it," he said, smiling softly at them and turning as if to leave. 

"Why?" asked Asbel, reaching out to grab his wrist and pull him back in. "I told you, I love both of you, and you both, uh, showed me you wanted that as well so where do you think you're going?"

The expression on Richard's face was almost comical, and Cheria giggled, stepping back as Asbel pulled him back in gently and kissed Richard softly. 

"I mean what I say," Asbel reminded them both as he pulled back, looking between both their faces. "And I love both of you, I'm not giving that up."

The smile Richard gave him was brilliant, and Cheria clapped once, before dragging her chair over. "Well, that's settled," she said brightly. "Shall we have some tea and you can tell us how Sophie's doing?"

"Okay," said Asbel, and Richard nodded approvingly, returning to his own chair. 

The three of them leaned in, talking animatedly between themselves, and if once in a while someone's hand made it to someone else's arm, then they didn't mention it. 

 


End file.
